An Illogically Happy Birthday
by Miss Doll
Summary: Birthday gifts from Mc Coy to Spock. Let's hope it isn't poison.


An Illogically Happy Birthday

I do not own Star Trek.

"Happy birthday." Happy birthday used to mean happiness, another year, another drink, another day to be on the ship. It slowly became hard to care for birthdays, though, after so many people began to pass theirs by.

Permanently.

"I imagine that you know that it is impossible for me to have a 'happy birthday', Doctor, seeing as I do not feel happiness nor sadness from turning another year older. If I may use a Earth euphemism, do not waste you breath."

"I'll waste my own damn breath however I feel Mr. Spock, and I feel like telling you happy birthday, so shut up and take it as a good thing I'm not giving you a birthday hypo."

The Vulcan raised his eyebrow but said nothing and continued to write his reports. Why, Mc Coy thought, he needed to do them in his sick bay was beyond the good doctor's knowledge. He wasn't the most cheery of folks to waste your birthday with, and it didn't seem like Spock to hang around the place where he often got the most beef for being his own little clinical self. He usually stayed at the bridge, the rec room, or where ever the Captain was that day.

There was something there, but Mc Coy couldn't put his finger on it. The pointy-eared bastard was doing something to piss him off. And he wasn't liking it one bit.

"You seem to be thinking of something. May I ask as to what you are thinking of?"

"Why the hell you, of all people, are choosing to spend you birthday in the sick bay with me doing paperwork."

"I already told you Doctor, that my birthday is of no importance to me other than to show that I have survived another year to see out the next."

"I know, you green-blooded tin man, but why spend your non-important birthday in the sick bay with me?"

Spock flipped the page of his report booklet and looked up at the Doctor fleetingly. His eyes seemed to carry something that was akin to embarrassment.

"I thought this would be the most efficient place to be when avoiding the Earth event of telling people happy birthday and then insisting that you have a festive gathering of people to celebrate a day that has no more significance then the many other birthdays in the universe."

"So," Mc Coy said, giving Spock appraising look, "You came here because you knew it was the last place on Earth where someone would care about your birthday."

"Affirmative Doctor. Your abrasive attitude toward me proved to be sufficient in repelling any sort of positive attention being drawn toward a celebration on my birth."

Mc Coy raised his eye brow and looked at Spock, before reaching down below his desk and pulling out a wrapped present.

"I suppose you thought I hated you enough to not care about getting you a present."

"I imagined this to be the case Doctor. I shall inform you I am pleasantly surprised at this display of affection from you, as you have always found my presence unattractive and never have you expressed any sort of…"

"Okay Spock, I get it. You think I hate you. But here, open your damn gift before I start hating you again."

Spock's lips twitched into what could be conceived as a smile before taking the present and pulling back the paper.

Inside was a very brightly colored wool sweater, with a row of small dangling beads on the bottom.

"It is very…very nice Doctor."

"Nice? I worked damn hard on that thing Spock. It's has to warrant more than a nice."

"It's is very desirable to wear Doctor. Perhaps you would prefer I make comments on how wonderful it will compliment other things I own?"

"No thanks. Desirable to wear is fine with me."

"I find it difficult, though, Doctor, to imagine you utilizing the skills needed to make such a thing as this."

"I have a more creative side Spock."

"I did not think it was on the knitting side Doctor." Mc Coy narrowed his eyes and gave Spock a very dirty look.

"If you don't like, you don't have to wear it."

"Oh, I will wear it Doctor. I just didn't expect you to express yourself in such a medium. It is, after all, considered to be a more feminine way of expressing one's self…"

"Alright, Spock," He stopped the Vulcan midway through his rant and put his hands up, "Just accept the damn gift and move on."

"Thank you Doctor. I appreciate the nice sweater you knitted me through expressing yourself in a feminine manner."

"I'm going to punch your lights out someday Spock. Just not today, because it's your birthday."

"I do not think you could best me in a physical confrontation, but I will let your comment go, as you have shown me a great deal of positive affection in keeping the celebration down to a minimum."

Mc Coy grined and winked at Spock, which startled the Vulcan none too greatly.

"Don't worry. I sent Jim your coordinates while you were opening your present."

Spock glared at the doctor, who seemed to be trying to stifle laughter.

"Your sweater is illogical. And ugly."

"I suppose it is Spock, but you said you'd wear it. You said you'd wear it, and I'll hold you to that."

"If I had emotions Doctor, I would hate you right now."

"Happy birthday Spock, you pointy eared hobgoblin."

The end

A.N. It was going to be all sad and serious and then I changed my mind.

I'm terrible at writing for Spock. I'd really rather stay in my niche of Mc Coy, thanks. Good old sarcasm and bitterness for me.

Please Revew…


End file.
